Our World
by Switzy Fangirl
Summary: Paris still hasn't forgiven Konigsberg and Berlin for WWII. Berlin kidnaps him and takes him back to his hotel room to talk to Konigsberg. Paris tries to explain his feelings to Konigsberg, only to end up causing the Prussian to have a psychotic outburst that doesn't end well for Paris. London, D.C. and Ottawa rescue him, but not long after Germany declares war on France.


Chapter 1: Out of Hiding

Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence, Yaoi

Pairings so far: Berlin/Konigsberg/Paris

Notes: Italics mean either thoughts, a language other then English, or flashback

* * *

Paris hummed a little tune, helping Ottawa make pancakes for breakfast. His little brother had come for a visit and considering how attached Ottawa was to his twin brother that was rare. Said twin was sitting at the dining room table, drinking a glass of milk with one hand, texting with the other.

"_Berlin a été inquiété dernièrement. Il dit qu'il a un mauvais sentiment._" Paris whispered to Ottawa in French.

Ottawa nodded. "_J'ai aussi_."

"Will you two stop speaking in French?!" D.C. demanded, setting down his milk. "I have Google Translate on my phone you know!"

Ottawa blushed in embarrassment and apologized while Paris simply shrugged. "We didn't want to worry you D.C. Berlin is convinced something bad is coming."

"I didn't know you were talking to Berlin and Konigsberg again." D.C. raised an eyebrow curiously.

Paris rolled his eyes. "I'm not, Madrid told me."

"Are you still giving him London's used left socks?" Ottawa asked.

Paris nodded. "This way he doesn't kidnap me and try to make me talk to Berlin and Konigsberg."

The twins nodded their understanding.

London stomped down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. "To bloody early. Somebody pass me a beer and some pancakes."

Paris snickered and picked up a pitcher of water, walked over to London, and dumped it on the red head's head. "I don't serve beer."

London sputtered angrily, thoroughly soaked, and ground his teeth together. "Run. Now."

Paris took off out the door, London right on his heels. Ottawa and D.C. shook their heads.

Paris had been running for 10 minutes when he ran smack into someone. He fell and banged his head on the sidewalk. He looked up with watery eyes.

"Paris, are you alright?" Berlin asked, picking him up.

Paris glared and tried to push him away. "_Laissez-moi la paix! Le fait de Baiser le Nazi! Londres! Aide!_"

Berlin shook his head and pulled something out of his pocket. A moment later Paris flinched and slowly stopped moving, watching Berlin, fear and betrayal filling up his eyes.

"I'm sorry for hurting you Paris, but there was no way around this." He turned and began walking, the unconscious Parisian balanced carefully in his arms. Sometimes Konigsberg had good ideas.

London ran down the sidewalk, and not seeing Paris, turned around to cut the blond off back at the house.

London opened the door, peering in. Ottawa and D.C. were eating at the table. "Have you two seen Paris?" He asked.

They shook their heads and Ottawa took out his phone, calling Paris. When he received no answer he looked frightened. "Paris always answers his phone unless he's asleep or unconscious or tied up! He can't sleep outside of the house since WWII!" He looked like he was about to cry. "He's been kidnapped!"

D.C. rolled his eyes and called Konigsberg. "Hurt Paris and I'll kill both of you." He hung up before Konigsberg could reply. He looked at Ottawa. "He'll be fine. Calm down."

"If he's not back in 3 hours we'll track down Berlin and Konigsberg, okay?" London ruffled Ottawa's hair.

Ottawa nodded and shoved his pancakes away, appetite completely gone.

Konigsberg looked at his phone. "Well D.C.'s pissed." He looked across the hotel room toward Berlin. "He says if we hurt Paris he'll kill us."

Speaking of Paris, he was tied up and gagged in the corner, growling whenever either of them came near him.

"We aren't going to get anything done if he doesn't calm down." Berlin groaned.

Konigsberg smirked in Paris's direction. "Seems kinda cute to me."

Paris glared daggers at him, growling a warning deep in his throat.

Konigsberg walked over to him, getting on his knees, and began petting the enraged Parisian. "Shhhhhh…sweetheart, we aren't gonna hurt you again, okay? We just want to talk."

Paris looked away, trembling. Konigsberg removed the gag. "See, no one gets hurt."

Paris whimpered, looking back up at him, and tried pressing himself farther back in the corner.

"Calm down blondie, I already said we weren't gonna hurt you."

Paris opened his mouth to scream and a hand was slapped over it. "I take it back, you scream, and I'll spank you myself." Konigsberg growled in annoyance.

Paris nodded his understanding, eyes wide with fear. Konigsberg removed his hand. "W-what do you want?" Paris asked.

Konigsberg smiled. "See, there's the Paris I fell in love with all those years ago. Smart, pretty, pouty Paris."

Berlin growled at him.

Konigsberg shook his head. "The same one Berlin fell in love with to."

Paris glanced from the ropes at his hands and feet before looking back at the two skeptically. "If this is how you treat people you love I'd hate to see how you treat people you hate."

Konigsberg sighed. "We missed you and you wouldn't even talk to us after WWII."

"Well _Kaliningrad_-"

Konigsberg shoved the gag down his throat and pinned him to the ground.

Paris flinched.

"Never call me that you fucking _bitch_!" Konigsberg backhanded him.

Tears started leaking out of the corner of Paris's eyes. He whimpered.

"_Kleine Scheißhure_!" Konigsberg hissed.

Paris wiggled and whimpered, eyes wide.

Berlin walked over, tugging Konigsberg off of him. "He didn't mean it _bruder_; you know how he gets when he's frightened. He speaks first and thinks later."

Paris whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. Those exact words from not too long ago ringing in his head. Berlin removed the gag. Paris looked at Konigsberg. "You should know how I feel." He whispered, lowering his head.

"What do you mean?" Konigsberg asked, sitting down in front of Paris, Berlin standing behind him.

"You trusted Moscow before WWII didn't you?" He sniffled. "He was on your side for most of the war."

Konigsberg nodded. "Yeah, your point?"

"Didn't you feel betrayed when he took you over and used you, hurt you, because you trusted him?"

Konigsberg glared. "Yeah, and?"

"And now don't you hate him and thinking about him and what he put you through hurts?"

Konigsberg pinned him against the wall, hand wrapped around the smaller capital's neck. "Don't you _dare_ compare my brother and me to him. We _love _you."

"You beat me, you chained me up, you killed my citizens, and you raped me. That is not love. That is hate." Paris accused him, crying softly.

"You fucking loved every minute of being 'raped'." Konigsberg spat in his face.

"I hate you Konigsberg. You're a fucking hypocrite, you and your brother both. Say you love me all you want. I'll never believe you or love you back. You have no right to do this, to throw lies in my face, to accuse me. You can't blame this on me when it's your fault."

"You're the one who won't listen!" Konigsberg tightened his grip on Paris's throat.

"I've heard you. I don't believe you." He winced. "Strangling me won't make me believe you."

"_Ich, Liebe Sie, wir bumsend, Liebe Sie bumsend!_" Konigsberg howled.

"_Je déteste vous tous les deux_."

Paris lay on the floor, sobbing quietly. Konigsberg was fixing his gloves, watching him all the while. "Oh please, I didn't spank you that hard."

Paris trembled, pants still around his ankles, hands and feet till tied. He could feel the forming bruises on his backside and neck. He was frightened. He could feel the old betrayal stirring up again inside him.

Berlin was watching him, sitting on the hotel bed. "That's enough Konigsberg. Fix his clothes. D.C. will kill us if he thinks we did anything more."

Konigsberg rolled his eyes and bent down, pulling Paris's pants up. "See, your fine."

"Let me go home." He whispered, choking back the fear in his voice.

"Not happening. We've given you over 70 years to get over WWII. We're not giving you a day more." Berlin told him, standing. "I'm going to call London and tell him what's happened so he doesn't worry."

There was a knock on the door. Berlin went to open it, being shoved aside by D.C. Ottawa and London were right behind him. They ran over to Paris, shoving Konigsberg out of the way.

"Paris, Paris, damn it!" D.C. grabbed the sobbing capital's hands, helping him stand. "Are you alright?"

Paris nodded, sniffling. "Been through worse."

London pulled out his pocket knife and cut the ropes off Paris's hands and feet. "WWII all over again, right my friend?"

"Not that bad." _But the memories resurfacing are._ Paris glared at the two Germans. "I _hate_ you."

Germany and Prussia stared across the table at the two near copies of their teenage selves, taking in the few and far between differences.

Konigsberg and Berlin looked at each other, rolling their eyes.

"So Kaliningrad-"

Konigsberg shot up out of his seat like a rocket, trying to jump over the table to strangle Germany. Berlin grabbed his hand. "Sit down. He didn't know how much that name pisses you off Konigsberg."

German and Prussia watched them curiously.

"Basically, the only reason we've revealed ourselves to you is we want a war. With France. More specifically, Paris. We want control of Paris. You can do whatever you want with the rest of the country." Berlin told them seriously, pressing Konigsberg down into his seat.

"Why would you want a war with Paris?" Prussia asked curiously.

"He refuses to have anything to do with us since WWII ended and well-"

Konigsberg rolled his eyes. "Bitch decided he hates us. We are not okay with that."

Paris watched the personification of his country begin signing paperwork before sighing and walking over to him.

"Avent Bonnefoy." He whispered.

France looked up at him. "The reason behind this war is here, great." He growled in irritation.

Paris flinched. "I didn't mean to-"

London walked up behind him and slung a comforting arm over his shoulder. "It isn't his fault Mr. Bitch." London growled. "Berlin and Konigsberg are the ones behind this; Paris just wanted to be left alone."

"I'm surprised Arthur let you come to this meeting with him." France raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't know I exist yet." London smirked. "Adair Kirkland at your service. And this blond bombshell of an idiot happens to be my best friend Paris, otherwise known as Avent Bonnefoy."

Paris rolled his eyes. "London." He whined. "Where are Ottawa and D.C.?"

"McDonalds." London turned to look at him. "No bloody fucking duh."

"Arthur!" France called, a blond in a suit walking over to the group. "Meet London and Paris. Get London away from me, he's like you in the 90's and early 2000's."

England rolled his eyes. "You're bloody kidding."

"Personifications of the capitals. The red head is yours. I don't like him."

London stuck his tongue out at him. "I'm not leaving Paris to feel even worse about himself because you blame him refusing to fuck Berlin and Konigsberg for this war."

Paris flinched. "T-that's what they wanted?"

London looked at him in surprise. "You didn't know?"

"I-I…" Paris started crying. "Not again!"

London patted his shoulder in order to calm him down. "I won't let them hurt you again Paris, I promise. I'll die first."

He glared at the 2 nations. "This all you stupid country faults! You can't solve your own problems and we get dragged into it. If stupid Germany and Prussia hadn't given the okay this wouldn't be happening. C'mon Paris, let's go to McDonald's to get D.C. and Ottawa."

Paris nodded, allowing himself to be led out, still crying.

* * *

Translations of German and French in order of use:

Berlin has been worried lately. He says he has a bad feeling.

I have as well.

Leave me alone! Fucking Nazi! London! Help!

Little fucking whore!

Brother

I fucking love you, we fucking love you!

I hate you both.


End file.
